


tender offerings

by ohjustpeachy



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Getting Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Steve Rogers Feels, Tony Stark Needs Sleep, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:55:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22146793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohjustpeachy/pseuds/ohjustpeachy
Summary: Five times Steve carried Tony to bed.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 21
Kudos: 293





	tender offerings

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song of the same name by First Aid Kit!

It started by accident, which to this day no one believes, no matter how firmly Steve liked to remind them of it. He’d been spending more time in the lab with Tony lately, talking or sketching, or, most recently and to Tony’s disbelief, teaching the bots to play catch. 

_(They’re good at it, Tony, you just have to be patient with them!)_

That the bots were coming to be as attached to Steve as they were to Tony was something neither of them addressed out loud, though the rest of the team loved nothing more than teasing Steve about how he was ‘making nice with Tony’s kids.’

It was late, that first time, much later than Steve would typically venture downstairs to see what Tony was working on. He’d fallen asleep on the couch earlier, and now that it was actually time to sleep, Steve couldn’t. The lab, and, okay sure, Tony, called to him, the perfect sleepless night distraction. But, when he arrived there, he found Tony slumped over on the workbench, head resting on outstretched arms, a socket wrench still between his fingers, like he’d fallen asleep mid-thought. 

Steve remembers how endearing this first moment was, how he thought that only Tony Stark could look comfortable asleep in such an arguably _uncomfortable_ place. Though it wouldn’t be comfortable for long, surely. At the risk of Tony waking up to his back aching and his neck too stiff to sit straight, Steve made the snap decision to carry him to bed. It’s not like it was far, or Tony was very heavy in his super soldier arms. 

It was just an elevator ride. It was no big deal. 

Sure, maybe Steve should have given more thought to the way his whole chest warmed at the way Tony leaned into his chest like it was the most natural thing in the world, or how his stomach ached nervous when he lowered him, gently, onto his bed, pulling a blanket over him, clothes and all. He definitely could have listened to the little voice way, _way_ in the back of his heart that wanted nothing more than to curl up beside him. 

But instead, Steve pushed back the ridiculous urge to kiss Tony’s forehead, and pulled his bedroom door shut with a click.

Really. 

It was no big deal. 

Just a one time thing. 

*

Two times was still nothing to write home about. They were on the same team, and sometimes bad things happened, and they had to look out for each other. Falls and explosions and portals opening before their eyes, all of these things were commonplace now, Steve knew. As much as he wished it wasn’t the case, all of their lives were at risk more often than not. Tony’s maybe more than anyone’s, what with the whole billionaire, former-weapons-manufacturer thing to deal with. 

It was maybe a month after the night in the lab, and the team had been called out to deal with Loki, who loved nothing more than to resurface at the most inopportune moments. Even this, though, was something Steve had come to know, and catalog away in his memory for next time. What Steve hadn’t expected was the sudden blast that sent the Iron Man suit down, down, _all the way down_ to the ground with no warning. 

Steve’s reflexes were good, maybe the best on the team, and he only just managed to clock Tony falling and sprint to catch him with a second to spare before he hit the ground. Tony landed in his arms, nearly knocking him off balance, and while it became clear almost immediately that he was just fine, not even a broken bone to show for it, Steve couldn’t stop his heart from racing. 

_God._ A second later and Tony could’ve… he might’ve… 

The sound of the faceplate retracting snaps Steve out of his morbid thought, and he sucks in a deep breath at Tony’s face. There was a bruise already form, some blood near his temple, but he was looking up at him, disoriented but _okay_. “Hey, Cap,” Tony muttered, tiredly. “Good catch.”

“That was... quite a fall,” Steve stammered. 

“All the king’s horses ‘n and the king’s men…” Tony slurred, smiling up at Steve like he’d just made a very funny joke indeed. 

“The what?” Steve frown. Maybe he had a concussion. 

“Humpty Dumpty… Had a great fall, too.”

Steve’s relieved exhale was half laugh, half sigh, and he stood up, Tony still cradled carefully in his arms as Thor dealt with the remaining chaos his brother had left behind. 

“Well, lucky I got to you then. You’re still all in one piece. Though I think you need medical, Tony,” Steve said as he looked at the cut on his forehead, the way Tony’s eyes kept drifting shut. 

“M’fine. I think just… sleep and then repairs to Mark here.” Tony tapped the armor once, almost lovingly, then let his hand rest, so close to Steve’s that he could feel the warmth of it. 

“Okay fine, but I’m going to check on you, and if it gets worse, we’re going. Deal?” 

“Aye aye, Captain.”

So, Steve carried Tony to bed again, but it was all in the line of duty, and still nothing to worry about. Not even the way Tony asked him sleepily, to stay with him. 

*

The third time was a bit more… problematic, Steve can admit that. 

It was movie night, the first in a while, and a rare evening where _everyone_ was at the tower. It was nice. Steve sat a comfortable, friendly distance from Tony, though given that it was a loveseat, that still left them pretty close together. 

They made their way through what Tony deemed _the best romantic comedies of all time_ : _Y_ _ou’ve Got Mail_ and _Sleepless in Seattle_. Steve definitely did not focus on the fact that they followed a blonde and a brunette who, in _You’ve Got Mail_ , at least, go from sworn enemies to friends to… well. It ended happily. 

By the end of the second film, though, the rest of the team was making their way upstairs to bed, rubbing their eyes and cleaning up empty cups and bowls of ice cream and popcorn, signs of a night well-spent. Tony, for all his insistence on picking the movie, was snoring loudly at Steve’s side, dead to the world. Clint went so far as to fling a piece of popcorn at him, laughing lightly when it landed in the curls of his hair and stuck there. 

“Should we wake Sleeping Beauty here or let him sleep? Probably not good for anyone’s bones to sleep at that angle, though. I can probably lift him up,” Clint offered. 

It was a nice offer. Clint was being a good friend and teammate, Steve knew. But something in him reared its head and he might have lashed out _just a smidge_. But it was nothing, he was over-tired and ready for bed, and he apologized to Clint in the morning. Profusely.

“No!” Steve nearly barked. “I’ll do it.” He tried to sound more calm about it as he continued, but Clint was already looking at him with raised eyebrows, holding his hands up as if in surrender.

“Got it, will not touch him. ‘Night, Steve,” Clint said. He turned and walked away, and Steve pretended not to hear the comments he muttered about jealous boyfriends as he went. 

Tony, for his part, didn’t seem to mind that Steve was carrying up to bed for a third time in as many months. It felt, oddly normal to be doing so. Tony definitely seemed to tuck his head into Steve’s shoulder like he’d been there before, like he… belonged there felt too much like admitting something, so Steve tucked the thought away and focused on the task at hand. Blanket, lights, door. 

“Goodnight, Tony,” he said quietly, leaving as silently as he’d come. “Sleep tight.”

“Mhm, night, Steve.” Steve froze at the sound of Tony’s voice, sleepy and muffled by his pillow. He knew Steve was there? His stomach plummeted, but Tony just rolled over with a sigh, and was back to sleep before Steve could do too much panicking. 

Okay, so, Tony knew Steve carried him to bed. He’d known last time, too. He clearly didn’t _mind_ , or else he would’ve told him to get lost. 

Which meant that it was fine. 

_No big deal._

*

There really wasn’t supposed to be a next time. 

Then, there was a party for Nick Fury’s retirement. He was finally turning over the reins to Maria Hill, and while they’d miss him as a person, they were looking forward to a new era of leadership, some new ideas, and, on Tony’s part, maybe even some flexibility. 

“Ding dong the witch is dead,” Tony said as they walked downstairs together. 

Steve smirked. “Be nice,” he said. Tony just laughed and shrugged and dragged him over to the bar. “If I have to make nice I need a drink. And you. Don’t ditch me when you get a better offer,” Tony wiggled his eyebrows. “I can’t face these gossip-mongers alone.” 

Steve might have been imagining things, but there was something unsure in Tony’s voice when he said it, like he really did want Steve to stay by his side, maybe. The idea turned his stomach in knots, like someone playing Jacob’s Ladder with his insides. 

He swallowed and rolled his eyes. “There’s no ‘better offer,’ Tony. Besides, someone’s gotta keep an eye on you, make sure you play nice this evening.” 

Tony cackled at this. “Good luck, Steven.” 

Somehow during the night though, they inevitably get separated. They take on a _divide and conquer_ mentality, taking it in turns to talk to the press, congratulate Fury, give statements on what they think is coming next for the team. 

( _Two team l_ eaders, _united at last!_ , the articles will scream in the morning) 

During this separation, however, Tony managed to down one martini too many, and when Steve caught up to him at the end of the night, the last of the party-goes cobbling together shoes and coats and handbags and making their way to the elevator, Tony is sitting at the bar, looking at him with sad, weary eyes. 

“What’s wrong, Tony? Too much fun tonight?” Steve asked lightly. He never wanted to sound accusatory, or worse, parental, when it came to Tony’s drinking.

“Don’ be mad, kay?” Tony said, then reached his hand out for Steve to help him up. Steve took it carefully, and placed a steadying hand on Tony’s shoulder when he swayed on his feet.

“I don’t think I have it in me to be mad at you for much, these days,” Steve admitted, maybe because Tony was drunk, or maybe because he was looking at him with such… emotion in his eyes, alcohol-fueled or otherwise, that Steve couldn’t help it. 

“Good. ...Did something dumb’n I don’t want you to hate me.”

Steve eyed him, suddenly nervous. “What did you do?” 

“Thought if… If I drank a little and got too tired you… you’d have to help me upstairs t’bed. But then I thought that’s stupid. But by then I was here and now you’re here and I’m… sorry.” Tony looked up at Steve, eyes mournful, and Steve’s palms were suddenly damp with sweat as he looked at Tony and realized what he’d just said. 

Tony _wanted_ Steve to take him to bed? That was… impossible, though. Besides, Tony was drunk, and he probably wouldn’t even remember this in the morning. 

“See, you’re mad. M’gonna go to bed, kay? Please don’t be mad tomorrow, everything’s so good and you’re so…” Tony stopped abruptly, looked up into Steve’s eyes, and stumbled again. 

As always, it was a rather quick decision on Steve’s part. “Okay, okay. I got you. Just, hold onto my arm, okay? I’m not mad,” Steve reassured him. 

Tony nodded seriously, then placed his hand on Steve’s arm so that he was steady enough for Steve to lift him up and into his arms in one swift motion, carrying him like he’d done on multiple occasions now. But it was different, too, knowing Tony was awake this time. That he _wanted_ Steve to be there. Steve can feel his pulse quicken at the thought, but focused on walking to the elevator and getting Tony to bed, studiously _not_ looking down at the way Tony had nestled himself comfortably in his arms. 

By the time they take the short ride upstairs, Tony was close enough to sleeping that Steve thought he might just be out of the woods. He could slip out of Tony’s room like he always did, and maybe they could forget the whole thing. 

But after he settled Tony down on his bed, Tony’s hand caught his wrist. “Don’t go. Stay.”

Steve’s mouth went dry, chest heaving uncertainly. “Tony, I don’t think…” 

“Please,” Tony said, yawning hugely. “Always wanted you to stay.”

The words sped up and slowed back down, replaying in Steve’s head on a dizzying loop. 

_Always?_

Steve cleared his throat. “If… If you’re sure.” He settled himself down beside Tony ( _beside Tony!)_ in what was, he realized, a massive and deliciously soft bed. 

He’d only planned to stay until Tony fell asleep, but it was like as soon as he lay down, the anxiety and nervousness that had engulfed Steve lately seeped away, and he was just _calm_. He exhaled deeply, and was asleep before Tony managed to wriggle in as close as he could. 

When Steve woke up, well-rested for the first time in months, he was almost startled to find that Tony was still there; was, in fact, pressed close against him, face tucked into the crook of Steve’s neck, and his arms wrapped firmly around Steve’s waist.

He doesn’t know what to do with the unfiltered joy that washes through him at the sound of Tony’s voice in his ear, saying, delightedly, “You stayed.”

*

The next time is much later, and there’s no pretenses. 

They come home after dinner and collapse onto the couch, Tony settling himself on Steve’s chest and breathing deeply. “God, who let you be this comfy. You’re like, the softest, best human pillow ever. They should sell you in stores. People would register for you for their weddings. The Steve Pillow, I can see it now,” Tony mumbles with his eyes closing. 

Steve laughs quietly, carding his hand through Tony’s hair. “I don’t know, I don’t think my boyfriend would like that, everyone having their hands all over me.”

Tony’s eyes snap open, then narrow. “No, you’re right. Steve pillow is mine and mine alone, thank you very much.” He snuggles in tighter, nose pressed into Steve’s neck as his breathing evens out.

“Tony. Sweetheart. Don’t fall asleep here when we can just go up to bed,” Steve says, poking at Tony’s side playfully. He knows this routine by heart, now. Tony would fall asleep, or _pretend_ to fall asleep, in the hopes of Steve carrying him to bed. (C _ome on, Steven, we both know you used to love it!)_

Tony stays still, his breathing so perfectly even that Steve _knows_ he’s still awake, biding his time until Steve takes them to bed. Steve smiles fondly, knows he looks like a complete sap, but really, he still loves it. He’ll pretend that he minds because that’s what they do, but Steve knows the truth. He loves Tony, loves the warm, comforting heft of him in his arms as he walks them upstairs, loves the way Tony trusts him so implicitly, and he loves that now, he never has to leave at the end of it. 

Steve smiles, leans down and presses a kiss to Tony’s forehead before scooping him up easily. “Fine, Sleeping Beauty, one more time,” he says, not missing the way Tony smiles before tucking his face out of sight. 

Steve shakes his head and turns out the lights. He’d carry Tony to bed every night from here on out. It’s no big deal, he thinks, not when it’s the love of your life.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm omg-just-peachy on tumblr!


End file.
